Resolute Investigation, page 3
She studied his face with an intensity that unnerved him. “Oh, I get it now. You didn’t come by to make sure the kids and I were safe. You came by because you think I killed Eric, don’t you? You think I’m a murderer.”
Chapter Three
Rachel paused halfway up the steps to the justice center. Was she doing the right thing, coming here without a lawyer? Eric dead, her being questioned, it all seemed so surreal.
But she wasn’t guilty. She had nothing to hide, and the sooner she answered his questions, the sooner Adam could get busy finding the real killer.
She continued up the steps, reminding herself of what Adam had said. At the beginning of a murder investigation, they always talked to family members. Especially the spouse. Especially after a divorce. Especially after a big fight, when the ex-wife might have sort of threatened the now deceased in public.
A lot of people had seen and heard that argument. What if they think I did it? Again, she weighed the foolishness of not retaining a lawyer. Not that she could afford one. Then, clinging to her innocence as her shield, she convinced herself she’d be fine. What the townspeople thought about her was irrelevant. She’d be leaving Resolute before summer ended.
Almost to the top landing, Rachel stopped dead in her tracks. What if, deep down, Adam thinks I did it? Of course, he’d denied it when she flat out asked him earlier, when he came by the house to tell her about Eric. And to gauge my reaction because he already considered me a suspect. She covered her mouth with her hand as a broken sob escaped.
What a mess her life had become, just when she was finally getting things together.
Adam was doing his job, searching for evidence to arrest someone for this terrible crime. She’d always respected his diligence as a deputy. Appreciated his strong work ethic. That this man she so admired might think her capable of murder was far more heartbreaking to her than Eric’s death.
There’d be no evidence of her involvement, which he’d learn soon enough. Because, of course, she didn’t do it. She straightened her spine and continued to the door. Anyone who truly knew her would believe in her innocence. That’s all there was to it.
Might as well get this over with.
As she crossed the lobby, Helen greeted her with a sympathetic smile and sad eyes. “How’re you holding up, Rachel?”
“Shocked, I guess. I never imagined anyone would actually kill Eric.”
“I’m sure it gave you quite the jolt.” Helen straightened a stack of files on her desk that was already straight. “What can I do for you?”
“Adam asked me to come in and answer some questions.” Rachel had taken her hair out of the ponytail, and now she ran her fingers through the waves hanging in front of her shoulders. The smooth, repetitive movement soothed her.
“He just left on a call.” Helen picked up her phone’s receiver. “Let me see if I can catch him, have him come back.”
“That’s okay. I can wait if you don’t think he’ll be gone too long.” It seemed the better option than leaving and listening to the voices in her head argue for another day.
“I doubt he’ll be gone long at all.” Helen stood and headed for the door behind her, where Rachel guessed all the crime-solving happened. “I’m getting a bottle of water. Would you like one?”
Realizing her throat was dry, Rachel nodded. “Yes, please.”
Before Helen returned with the water, Deputy Dave Sanders entered through the front door. Familiar with his unpleasant demeanor from his thankfully infrequent visits to the diner, Rachel suddenly found a need to search her messy purse for something.
“Rachel Miller, right?” He pointed at her, as if he wasn’t sure.
She glanced up and nodded.
“You’re here for questioning regarding the murder of your ex-husband?” Without waiting for a response, he flicked his hand in a rude follow me gesture and walked to the door Helen had disappeared behind. “Come on. I’ll get you settled in an interrogation room.”
Interrogation room? Two words, and just that fast, doubt and fear reasserted themselves in her mind. Ignoring the voice telling her to run, she stood. And despite her distaste for Deputy Sanders, Rachel’s ingrained respect for law enforcement won out, and she trailed behind him to a small room with a small table and two small, uncomfortable-looking chairs.
She took a seat, expecting to wait for Adam.
Instead, Dave closed the door with an ominous finality and assumed a belligerent pose as he sat on the chair opposite her. “So. You two had quite the argument on Monday. I know. I was there when you and the victim were screaming at each other.”
“We weren’t screaming.” In a calm and deliberate motion, Rachel sat forward on the edge of her chair and rested her forearms on the table, hands folded. “Remind me, Deputy. Where exactly were you when I exchanged a few heated words with my ex-husband?” He hadn’t been inside the Busy B. She would have noticed.
“Close enough to hear you threaten his life. And then days later, he winds up murdered.” He hooked his hands together behind his neck and stretched out his legs, looking relaxed. “Quite the coinkydink, wouldn’t you say?”
“Coinkydink?” Though it wouldn’t help her situation, Rachel couldn’t help but smirk at the cartoonish deputy sitting across from her. “Please tell me this conversation is being recorded. I’m sure Adam and the sheriff would love to hear this part.”
He sat up, suddenly all starch and vinegar. “You know what I mean. Answer the question.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. Her respect for law enforcement stopped short of this man. “No. You answer my question. Where exactly were you standing that you thought you heard me threaten my ex-husband?” After her argument with Eric, she’d gazed around in horror at the bystanders enthralled by her public humiliation. Dave Sanders hadn’t been among them.
“Ms. Miller.” His condescending drawl fired her anger. “Where I was standing is immaterial. We’ve already interviewed a lot of witnesses who saw your fight that day and heard you threaten him. And every single one of them will testify to that in a court of law.” He nodded toward her hand. “What’s up with the bandage?”
“I cut my hand chopping vegetables.”
“Stitches?”
“Yes.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re saying you managed to have a kitchen-knife accident requiring stitches?” He leaned forward. “At the same time your ex was stabbed to death?”
Overcome with light-headedness, Rachel slowed her breathing. “Eric was stabbed to death?” Her dry throat ached. “Who would do something like that?”
“How ’bout we start with the obvious?” He held his hands out toward her.
“I would never do anything like that, even to someone I loathe.” She doubted he caught the barb directed toward him. “And I don’t think you have the right to—”
“Lady, in this room, I’ve got all the right in the world.” Then his voice lowered in a way that made her skin crawl. “It’ll go easier for you if you just admit it. Why not start by telling me where the murder weapon is?”
“I didn’t kill him!” Her voice rose with each word. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Whoa.” Dave’s grin became predatory. “Looks to me like you’ve got a problem with anger.”
“I do not have a problem with anger!” Rachel shouted, instantly realizing her mistake when the expression on Dave’s insincere face softened.
“Look, I get it,” he said. “Eric was a cheat, a deadbeat dad. An all-around creep. Everyone in town knows it. To top it off, he got thrown in jail last weekend when he was supposed to have the kids. Or at least, that’s what I heard. I understand why you would rage out over his behavior, toward both you and your kids. You went over to his place to have it out with him and, well, the rage just took over. You grabbed a knife and stabbed him, over and over and over. Problem solved. Anybody would have done the same. Especially when dealing with your ex.”
Over and over and...? Oh, Eric. I’m so, so sorry. She’d loved the man once upon a time, and even now, when he truly was a deadbeat, he didn’t deserve to die in such an agonizing way.
She remembered where she was, who she was with, and then it dawned on her. Dave didn’t have the power here. She did. She folded her arms across her chest. “I think you’ve made a mistake, Detective Sanders.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
A sense of satisfaction washed over her. “I voluntarily came in to answer questions. But you’re treating me like a suspect, and you’ve turned this into an interrogation. All without reading me the Miranda warning. I’m not saying another word without a lawyer present.” Rachel glared at him, her mouth set in a tight line.
Dave’s jaw clenched, and his hands gripped the table edges until his knuckles whitened.
Who’s the one with an anger problem now, Dave? It wasn’t like her to be petty. Still, she enjoyed getting him riled after the way he’d treated her.
Finally, he stood and jammed his chair up against the table. “Have it your way. I hope you like the orange jumpsuit you’ll be wearing for the next thirty or forty years.” And he stormed out.
His threat was highly effective. The moment the door slammed behind him, she began to shake. What would my children do with both parents gone?
No. That was not going to happen. I’m innocent. Taking deep, slow breaths, she calmed herself. True, she didn’t have a lawyer, but she could get one. For free, if need be. Maybe not the best one, but again, she wasn’t the person they were looking for. That person, the murderer, was still out there somewhere. The disquieting thought hadn’t occurred to her before.
She folded her shaking hands in her lap and stared across the room. A black splotch on the wall caught her attention, and she focused on it. Sitting stone-still except for her shaking hands and hammering heart, she stared at that spot as she tried to numb her mind to Dave’s authoritative blows. But it was pointless.
In agitation, she rose and paced the perimeter of the room. Over and over, back and forth, attempting to burn off some of her nervous energy. Worry for her kids invaded her mind like earwigs eating their way through her brain. She hadn’t told her mom where she was going, and she had no idea how long she’d be stuck in the tiny space.
“To hell with this.” She’d done her bit. If anyone else wanted to talk to her, they could come with a warrant. She reached for the door of the interrogation room, planning to walk out the same way she came in: voluntarily.
She’d had enough of what passed for justice in Resolute for one day.
* * *
ADAM WALKED INTO the interrogation room carrying two bottles of water and collided full force with Rachel. “Oof.”
The bottles flew out of his hand, and he juggled them like a circus clown trying to catch them. One hit the floor, bounced twice, rolled under the table. He held out the other to Rachel. “Helen said you asked for water a while ago. When she got back to her desk and you were gone, she thought you’d left.”
She stepped away as if scalded, leaving only a subtle, feminine fragrance behind that teased his senses. “Then, how did you know I was in here?”
Her about-face reaction for no apparent reason stung him. Before leaving her house earlier, he had reassured her this interview was routine, and she’d seemed fine. Well, fine considering the circumstances.
“Helen told me, after Dave told her he put you in here to wait for me.”
“And now you’re here for round two, I suppose.” She raised her chin, almost as if challenging him.
The investigation was only hours old and already proving to be far from normal for him, even for a homicide. Helen had been right to talk to him about staying objective. He couldn’t let his emotions, his feelings for Rachel, cloud his judgment. And his confusion was growing.
“Round two?” He held out the water to her again.
Rachel took the bottle, looked into Adam’s eyes and burst into tears. “You...you think I k-killed him, don’t you? You’re all trying to find evidence to send me to prison. To take my kids away from me.”
That fast, Rachel’s anguish smothered whatever dispassion he’d fooled himself into believing. Adam led her to the chair on the far side of the table. “Rachel, no one’s trying to take your kids, and no one, least of all me, thinks you killed your ex-husband. That’s not why I asked you to come in. This is nothing more than routine questioning. Standard operating procedure.”
“Really?” Even her red-rimmed eyes, puffy from crying, couldn’t dim her beauty.
“Yes, really. What made you think otherwise?”
“Dave.” She blurted the name. “He was horrible. He straight-out accused me, and he did it without even giving me the Miranda warning.”
Adam muttered a curse under his breath. When Cassie came back from her honeymoon, the two of them were going to have a serious conversation about Dave’s future in Boone County.
He grabbed a box of tissues from a shelf and set it in front of Rachel, then took the chair across from her. “Dave had no business being in here with you, and I’ll make sure he knows that. On behalf of the department, I apologize for his behavior. And at the risk of sounding like a broken record, let me repeat, I have no reason to suspect you murdered Eric.” He left yet unspoken and felt like a jerk for even thinking it. But it was his job to think it, as Helen had hammered home.
Rachel’s tears slowed, her sobs becoming occasional hiccups. “Maybe deep down, I knew that. But I keep doubting my own thoughts and decisions, which is unusual for me. It’s just... It’s been an emotional day, and it’s barely half over.”
He smiled in understanding. “It has been.” Now that she appeared calmer, he relaxed in his seat. “Listen, I know you’re upset, but are you up to answering a few routine questions?”
She nodded, her lips curling in a hint of a return smile.
“Good.” He set a recorder on the table and poised one finger over the Record button. “You okay with this?”
She shrugged, then nodded. “Wait. Before we start, can I ask you something, and you promise to tell me the truth?”
With her wide, trusting eyes staring into his, he couldn’t refuse. “You can ask me anything. I may not be able to answer you, but I promise whatever I tell you will always be the truth. Good enough?”
She gave his reply a moment of consideration. “Good enough.”
“Then, ask away.”
“Okay. If you were me and you were in my situation, would you ask for a lawyer?”
That presented him with a conundrum. In most instances, his answer would be yes, getting a lawyer was a wise thing to do. But this wasn’t most instances. He didn’t want her lawyering up. He wanted her talking. To him. About everything in life, not just this case.
Ah, Helen. I can’t do it. Objectivity in regard to Rachel simply wasn’t in the cards for him. But he wasn’t about to abandon his professionalism.
“When being questioned in a criminal investigation, having a lawyer is never a bad idea.”
A look of panic flashed across her face. The cost of retaining counsel for the single mom of two most likely terrified her.
“But here’s the thing. If at any time you want to stop the interview, you can ask for a lawyer. As soon as you do, we can’t talk to you without your attorney present.” He hoped she would answer all the questions now and prove herself innocent once and for all. “You think you can trust me enough to at least start the interview?”
Again, she considered his words, then nodded, and Adam felt a flood of gratification that despite her experience with Eric, she was willing to trust him, a man she knew only superficially.
“Good.” He pressed the Record button. “Now then, starting this past Monday, can you give me a walk-through of your week? Days and times you worked. What you did during your time off. How you spent your evenings.”
The autopsy would provide a tighter window of time when the murder had occurred, but for now Adam had to consider the entire week. When the time of death was pinned down, he’d verify Rachel’s timeline and confirm her alibi as quickly as possible.
As Rachel worked her way through each day’s schedule in detail, Adam jotted down notes for a working copy to keep with him. Each time he glanced up, her expression was open and guileless. If she recalled something she hadn’t mentioned, she backed up to the appropriate day and had him add it to his notes.
True, the spouse must always be considered. But on the flip side, no way was Rachel the perp. And he’d do whatever was necessary—this side of the law—to ease her anxiety and clear her of the crime.
Shut down emotionally? Stay objective? Riiight.
* * *
THAT EVENING, Rachel and her mother were in the main house, cleaning up the dinner dishes. Daisy and Brad, tucked in for the night in the big-boy bed and the crib that her mom kept for them, were blessedly silent. Plates clinked as they were put away, and the grandfather clock in the front hallway ticked away the seconds, but otherwise, the house was quiet.
Rachel washed the last glass, handed it to her mom, then reached for a plate. Rachel loved her mother. Her mom was her best friend, closest confidante and biggest supporter. Rachel usually found comfort in the simple act of being with her, performing mundane chores together.
Eric’s murder put an end to that.
At least Adam had calmed her primary concerns, though bawling like a baby in front of him today still embarrassed her. She scoffed. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he must think of her, but she’d bet money it wasn’t much. How could it be? Besides drop-dead gorgeous, he was quiet, always seeming to be contemplating deep thoughts. Filled to the eyebrows with integrity, trustworthy, she hoped, and let’s not forget gainfully employed. What girl wouldn’t hanker for him?
